“Between the Mavericks, Sidewinders, and the smaller ordnance, I’m sure we do, Your Excellency.”
Then as they swept a wide loop around the islands, the first ship began to launch.
“Take it down,” said Goddard.
“But … I’m just a BladeGuard, Your Excellency – I can’t glean.”
“Then show me which button I must push.”
Loriana saw the first ship launch from the cage of a gantry elevator that was still climbing toward her own craft. She saw the missile just a few instants before it struck. The ship had barely cleared its gantry when the missile hit it, and it blew up with such force it took out all the trees, setting the entire island on fire. She wasn’t sure which island it was – she had lost all her bearings and was so shaken she barely knew up from down. Then the elevator door rattled open, revealing a narrow catwalk to the open hatch, but no one was moving. The people around her still gawked at the exploding craft, which couldn’t seem to stop exploding.
“Don’t stop!” she told them. “Get to the hatch!”
“But what if we’re next?” someone asked.
“Then we’re dead! Now shut up and move!”
She had never spoken like that to anyone, but there were times when harsh words were called for.
She shepherded everyone in ahead of her, then turned to look back – something she probably never should have done. The plane that had fired the missile had taken a sharp bank. Another ship was blasting off. It cleared its gantry – it looked like it might actually make it … and then a second missile launched from the plane, soared across the expanse of the lagoon, and hit that second ship just below the nose cone. The entire craft blew like a massive grenade, sending shrapnel in all directions.
The shock wave of the explosion hit Loriana, blowing her back through the hatch, and the hatch immediately closed, sealing her in.
“Prepare for launch,” she heard Cirrus say. She wondered if it even knew that two of its siblings were already dead.
Greyson and Jeri had taken a motorboat into the lagoon to watch the launches. They weren’t the only ones. Dozens of small craft full of people who never made it to ships, or preferred to take their chances with scythes, were spaced out in the expansive lagoon of the lower atoll. They were nearly three miles from shore when the first spacecraft exploded, and watched in stunned silence as the attacking plane came around and took out the second craft. Greyson gripped Jeri’s hand tightly. No one could have survived those explosions. He had no idea which ships anyone was in. No way to know who had died.
The attacking craft went in for another run, but a rumble filled the air louder than any of the explosions. Another spacecraft, and another, and another were launching. Greyson counted fourteen simultaneous launches. It was an awesome thing to behold! Ships all around them heading skyward and leaving billowing smoke trails like streamers across the sky.
But the attacking plane banked around again, and Greyson and Jeri braced, waiting for more missiles. Waiting for more ships to be blown out of the sky.
With the hatch closed, Loriana found a seat and strapped herself into the tight harness. Then someone in the seat beside her spoke.
“I’m scared.”
She turned to see that it was that other scythe. The one in denim. Morrison – wasn’t that his name? But his ring was gone, leaving a pale band on the finger where it had been.
“This was a bad idea,” he said. “I know I’m a scythe – or at least I was – and things aren’t supposed to frighten me. I know it’s stupid, but I’m really scared.”
“It’s not stupid,” Loriana told him. “I’m absolutely terrified.”
“You are?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m about two seconds from pissing myself I’m so scared.”
And from her other side she heard “So am I,” and then someone else called out “Same here.”
Loriana looked at Morrison, forcing a smile. “You see?” she said. “We’re all scared out of our fucking minds!”
Morrison smiled back at her. “I’m Jim,” he said, but hesitated. “No. No – actually my name is Joel.”
But before she could say another thing, the engines ignited, they lifted off, and the rattle and roar overwhelmed them. So Loriana reached out her hand and grabbed his, if only to stop both their hands from shaking.
Rowan and Citra had just climbed out of the truck when the first ship blew. There were at least a dozen people hurrying to one of two gantry elevators beside their chosen ship when it happened, and they saw the attacking plane fly overhead. Dark blue and speckled with stars. Goddard had come for them. He had come for all of them.
“We have to hurry,” Rowan said.
“It’s not like I’m stopping to sightsee,” Citra told him.
The first gantry elevator was already on its way up, but the other one was open and waiting for them. They were still about fifty yards away when the second ship blew – this one even more violently than the first, sending shrapnel surging in all directions.
“Don’t look,” Citra yelled. “Just run!”
But Rowan looked. And what he saw burned in his mind with such cauterizing permanence, it would haunt him forever. A huge hunk of flaming metal was heading in their direction. Before he could even call out, it slammed into the ground, taking out half a dozen people to their right – and other, smaller pieces were striking the ground around them like meteorites. Citra was running at full speed; she was twenty yards from the gantry now. Rowan tried to catch up with her. He tried. He saw what was about to happen – saw the trajectory of the flaming shrapnel – and he dove for her.
But he wasn’t fast enough.
He just wasn’t fast enough.
Goddard had always been partial to close-range gleaning, but as he watched those missiles launch and those two ships detonate – with merely the lightest press of his finger on a button – he realized he could grow accustomed to this. What must it have been like to be mortal? To be in a craft designed for killing, and to truly believe your life and the lives of everyone you loved hinged upon whether or not you pressed that little button. Kill or be killed: the mortal way. It did have a quaint but visceral appeal!
“This is extraordinary!” said Mendoza. “How could we not know this was happening?”
Before them even more ships were launching – a dozen at least – like it was some sort of carnival game. Take them all down, win the biggest prize. The only question was which one to take down next?
Rowan tried to stanch the flow of blood from Citra’s wound, but it was no use; it was just too big. A chunk of flaming metal the size of a baseball had punched a hole in her side and had gone straight through. He knew there was nothing he could do for her. Not now. Not in this terrible instant. But there would be a way to rectify this. If only he could get her to that ship.
She looked up at him, tried to mouth words, but he couldn’t tell what she was trying to say.
“Shhh,” he told her. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
He lifted her up and carried her to the gantry elevator, which rose up the side of the ship far too slowly, while up above Goddard’s plane came around, looking for its next target.